The Worst Name
by Monica Moss
Summary: He couldn't believe what his wife wanted to name their son. Didn't she know what that would mean? Somebody gets a shocker when his wife announces her choice for their son's name. After all, he does think it is a stupid name, and here's the reason why....


**Okay, I know I had an ADD moment here. I was watching **_**Infinite Realms**_**, and this image from **_**Masters of All Time**_** pops into my mind.**

**You all remember that scene where Jack says that he doesn't have a son, and even if he did, he would never name him Danny, right? The scene where he says Danny is a stupid name?**

**It popped into my mind the moment I was watching the part with Jon Fenton in it, and a connection formed. It is plausible that Jon Fenton heard Danny's name when Sam called it out. He could've remembered that, and told the story to his children, and grandchildren. It could be a story that the Fentons never forgot.**

**I reached a conclusion that **_**that**_** incident was the reason why Jack Fenton thinks that 'Danny' is a stupid name.**

**Clear as mud? :)**

**PS, yes I know that I should be working on something else, or better yet, typing up what I already have. But I couldn't ignore this, my mind wouldn't let me write anything else until I have this up on Fanfiction.**

Disclaimer: If you see it in here, it belongs to Butch Hartman.

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The Worst Name

Danny was a _stupid_ name. No son of _mine_ would ever get stuck with _that_ name. So hated of my family for generations, so infernal, so stupid! For the Fentons, the name is taboo!

"But Maddie!" I protested sharply. "Why?"

My disgust had no effect on her decision. She was determined that our son's name would be Danny.

"Jack, you got to name Jasmine, remember? You agreed that I could name our second child. It's my turn to choose a name." she reminded me. She smiled, "And I think Danny's a special name for our little boy!"

"I didn't think you'd ever name a son of mine _Danny_," I explained. I shivered at the deep humiliation it would bring to the Fenton family line.

You see, I come from a long line of ghost hunters. Some of my forefathers were brave and daring Fentons whose reputations I could only hope to live up to.

We, as Fentons, have pride in our ancestors. We are proud of many in the family line, the Fenton that realized that ghosts could be hunted, the Fenton that came to America to hunt ghosts, and the Fenton who realized the use of technology in ghost hunting. But the Fenton's family biggest pride was an ancestor of mine named Jonathon (Jon) Fenton.

Jon Fenton was one of the first Fentons successful in actually causing a ghost pain. He always carried a certain variety of flowers, called Blood Blossoms, with him. The plants were not only for the snack value they brought, but because for their essence, as well. Blood blossom essence was one of the few things known to guard against spirits at that time.

Living during the time of the Salem Witch Trials, Jon Fenton enjoyed watching accused witches burn at the stake. In one particular burning, something out of the ordinary occurred. The girl accused must've been a real witch, because she summoned an evil spirit to come to her rescue.

The spirit had the form similar to a boy's. The spirit's hair was as white as ice, his eyes, the yellowish-green color of scum, had an unearthly glow. His clothing was something out of the underworld, black as death, with spots of white in careful contrast.

It flew like a bullet to save his dark mistress, intending to rescue her from the stake.

It was then my brave ancestor jumped out to act. He made a line of Blood Blossoms to block the specter's path, and the ghost smashed into the shield the herb created. Jon Fenton continued his work, encircling the entire stake with the blossoms.

This action earned him praise from the man who was burning the witch. The man then threw the demon into the ring of flowers, to exterminate it.

The ghost gave an ear-shattering cry that ghosts give only when they know they are being destroyed. It tossed about in pain.

The witch, seeing what had been done, screamed for her demon, and called out its name. The ghost had the name of Danny, of course. The name has been a forbidden word, and the unofficial swear word of the Fenton family ever since.

Most people would think that Danny would be a popular name among my family, to celebrate Jon's success in harming the ghost. It would've been, if the ghost had indeed been vanquished.

Unfortunately, the ghost was rescued! A strangely dressed youth rushed toward the circle and ate all the blossoms. They were gone before they could finish annihilating the ghost.

The youth, the spirit, the witch, and the man responsible for the capture of the witch, all disappeared. It is a great fear of my family that, one day, the ghost could return to take his revenge.

Being ghost hunters, you'd think that's what we'd want, wouldn't you? The ghost's return would bring another chance to destroy him. But ghosts are obsessive, and they are almost impossible to defeat while dishing out their obsessive spectral revenge. Not even the Fentons would risk that fury.

Naming my son Danny might jinx our family, ensuring the ghost's return. It could not happen!

Besides, when my son grew up to be the ghost hunter I knew he'd be, how would he feel when he found out what his name means to the Fentons? It was chilling to think of my son becoming a ghost hunter with the shame of sharing his name with a ghost remembered, and feared, by his family.

I could not allow my son to be named Danny. It was an evil name.

"Maddie," I begged, "can't we call him something like 'Davy' instead?"

So much lay on her decision. So much was on the line. How could she not realize this?

She frowned, and said distantly, "I'll think about it Jack . . . "

But my wife never changed her mind. On our son's birth certificate she wrote his name, 'Daniel Jack Fenton'.

I'm sorry, my son. I have failed you in allowing you to be named Danny.

The moment Maddie wrote his name, in that single action, the promise I'd made to myself growing up was broken. I'd promised that if I had a son, I would **never** name him that cursed name, Danny. Yet, my first son had been born, and he bore that name. My name was linked to that ghoul, and my bloodline became entangled with it, through my poor son.

No grown man should ever feel the need to cry when he's fortunate enough to have a family as loving as mine. But when I saw my son's official name on that dumb piece of paper, I felt like bawling until my eyes fell out. Oh, the irony!

No good could ever come of this. For all I know, this name would doom my son. It could leave him at the mercy of a centuries-old ghost.

Danny was a stupid name after all.


End file.
